A Fine Line
by Erithe
Summary: Emma Faulkner has had a bad day, but it seems to be getting better. Invited to a party to drink away her sorrows away, she's not quite prepared for the twists of fate ahead of her.
1. Chapter 1

"_Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish  
them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness  
to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.  
~_August Wilson.

.

* * *

"What is wrong with this thing?" Emma stared at her phone and then up at the surrounding buildings. Lights were flicking on in the surrounding dormitories, yellow rectangles stretching up against the twilight sky. Walking down the sidewalk a little further, she tried again, holding the smaller glowing rectangle up to see if the connection would increase. No such luck. "Dammit."

The trees rustled overhead in a light breeze and she folded her arms around herself, considering going back into the dorm lobby. Not that she belonged there. As a visiting speaker, she wasn't exactly a student on campus and she had no idea how to get back to her hotel - if they hadn't canceled her reservations after the disaster that had been the day.

A car sputtered past, full of laughing students, and she sighed. Not so long ago, she'd been a student herself, concerned only with tests, projects, and spending whatever free time remained out with her friends. That had been before graduate school in upstate New York, three years of non-stop lectures, research, and writing, then graduation, publication, and a sudden rise to popularity among a certain group of literary critics. All of which she'd trashed today when a very important individual with a pair of wandering hands had ended up with coffee down his front.

"Should have just walked away, Faulkner," she told herself, pacing in a circle while she tried to think of what to do. Another car drove past, this one with a couple of girls in it, Emma ignored it until the driver shifted to reverse and slowly backed up to stop next to her.

The passenger window rolled down and a young woman with short bobbed hair in a vibrant shade of red and several studs in her eyebrow leaned out, "You all right?"

"I'm ... no, actually. I'm not," Emma admitted, flushing a little. "I've had a shit day and now I can't get back to my hotel because this," she held up the phone with a disgusted expression, "won't connect."

"Where are you staying? We can drive you back if it's not too far," the driver leaned forward with a smile.

"Are you ... certain? I mean, I'd love a ride, but I hate to put you out," Emma smiled, feeling her spirits beginning to lift.

"Hell, we're just on a booze run, so if you're not going far, it's not a problem," the passenger laughed, reaching back to unlock the back door. "Get in. Even if it's far, if you've got five bucks for gas, we're good."

"I'll fill up your tank if you know where to drop me," Emma answered, grateful beyond measure. She opened the door and slid into the backseat, realizing with a start just how tired she'd been as she settled into the creaking back seat of an ancient volvo. There were backpacks and the detritus of college life everywhere, and it felt like home.

"So, are you just visiting someone? Or are you an incoming student?" The driver asked, looking back at Emma through the rearview mirror. She had dark hair, cropped short, and a sharp expression in her eyes that seemed to compel Emma to answer honestly, though she was trying hard to forget.

"I was here as a guest speaker at a symposium for your English department. Sadly, I got myself kicked out midway for telling one of the organizers exactly what I thought about him." She swallowed the bile that wanted to rise and shook her head. "It didn't go well."

"Oh no," the redhead turned around in her seat, looking back with sympathy. "Did he insult your or something?"

"I think he mistook my professionalism for availability and tried to feel me up in the elevator. So, yes, I suppose he did. I poured my coffee down his chest," Emma explained, feeling her face flushing. She'd had every right to be offended, but it was still humiliating. "Anyway, I should have one night still at the hotel before they can cancel the rest. I'd like to get somewhere that my phone works so I can call the University where I work. They've got lawyers, I think. Right? I hope so."

"God, that's awful," the passenger thrust a hand back at her. "I'm Lily and this is Andy. You are welcome to come drink with us tonight, if you want. We're just going to a friend's house on the edge of campus for a party later."

"I might do that, now you ask," she answered, taking Lily's proffered hand and shaking it firmly. "I'm Emma. Thank you so much for the ride. The hotel's the big one? The Marriott by the highway, I mean."

"Oh! That's right next to the store! Well done," Lily laughed, settling back into her seat. "So, tell me what you do, Emma."

* * *

The hotel had a shuttle service to the airport in the mornings every hour till noon, so Emma arranged to utilize that, and changed out of her business clothes and into a pair of tight fitting jeans, a t-shirt under a short leather jacket, and a her 'comfort boots' - flat, suede boots that stretched up over her knees and had soles that could go for miles. When she got back down to the lobby to wait for Lily and Andy, they'd were just pulling up, half the backseat stacked with beer and other alcoholic beverages.

"I thought you said this was going to be a little shindig?" Emma asked, wedging herself inside the back seat.

"Well, they always start small," Lily laughed. "But then Marian's crew shows up and everything goes crazy."

Andy sighed and turned on her turn signal. "You have _no_ idea how insane it gets once those people show up. I spend half the party chasing them down."

"What? You don't join in the fun, too?" Emma asked, laughing.

"I try, but it's my Dad's house," Andy answered, smiling a little. "Not that I don't have fun. It's just, once Rick shows up, the entire party goes wild."

"Don't let him get you into a corner," Lily advised. "He'll talk your ear off."

She helped unload the car, happy to be doing anything else but thinking about the earlier part of the day. Andy, who was a graduate student studying criminal justice and whose original degree had been, surprisingly, literature, lived in her father's big old bungalow on the side of campus. Half the rooms were rented out to other students, many of whom were helping to carry the booze inside once Lily honked the horn. Emma followed Andy up the stairs and past a swinging hammock where a lanky bald man was swinging, sound asleep with an arm over his eyes. They went through a hallway and turned left into a dining room that led into a spacious kitchen kept spotlessly clean.

"Josie?" Andy called as they filed in and began stacking beer onto the kitchen table. "Josie? We're back and we've got a new friend!"

"Oh?" A black-haired woman with lively dark eyes and warm hued brown skin trotted into the room, tucking a yellow t-shirt into the waistband of a long skirt. The moment she saw Emma she smiled. "A new person! I'm the resident extrovert, Josie Montero."

"I'm Emma Faulkner," she answered, taking the hand the other woman extended. "There are a _lot_ of people here."

"There will be a lot more than this before the night's over," Lily said, carrying in the last of the booze and setting it with the rest. "Now, remember, if anyone is rude, tell me. I'm the house bouncer, so to speak."

"She means she'll get her shadowy associates to do it for her," Andy laughed as she poured ice into a large blow up kiddy pool, "C'mon, help me get this ready."

* * *

Crowded didn't quite do the scene justice as a descriptor. By nine p.m., the house was full to bursting with loud, raucous students, most of them graduate students or seniors trying to take the edge off. The music wasn't so loud you couldn't hear, but the low thunder of laughter, earnestly drunken debate, and Andy yelling for everyone to 'calm the fuck down already' was loud enough. Emma drifted among the various strangers, a red Solo cup full of hard cider in one hand. It was relaxing to simply be there among friendly people who didn't expect anything out of her.

The porch was quieter, she found, stepping outside into the chilly air with a smile. The hammock was empty now and she sank into with care, not wanting to tip over, and she sat there, swinging lightly and humming to herself. She'd had enough to drink to feel the buzz humming along her veins.

Headlights swung along the street while she watched and a vintage black mustang with a red design on the hood that she didn't recognize pulled up and parallel parked in front of the house. Doors slammed and a tall woman with a shock of black hair got out of the driver's side. She was followed by a lanky blonde man dressed in scrubs and a short man with an amazing mane of gold hair. A skinny, tattooed, white-haired fellow dressed all in the tightest jeans Emma had ever seen got out of the back and opened the door for a two other women, one tall and dark with a glory of black hair and a smaller girl who was a bit difficult to see in the dark. Finally, a tall woman with long tail of bright red hair exited the back seat, looking around with a resigned expression on her face.

"Oh joy," Andy said, coming out onto the porch. "I wondered if they were ever going to show up."

"Who is it?" Emma asked.

"That would be Marian and her friends. Watch out for the short one, that's Rick. He's in love with the sound of his own voice," Andy answered, walking to meet them. Emma sat her drink down on the porch and followed her, shoving her hair out of her eyes.

"Hey, Andy!" Rick called out as they approached. "Thought you were never speaking to me again?"

"I haven't spoken yet," Andy answered, her tone clipped. "Marian, you're late."

"Better late than never, right?" the tall woman smiled, her blue eyes catching the light from the porch in a way that had Emma staring. The charisma of that smile alone was enough to stop a person in their tracks. Emma swallowed and straightened her back.

"Whatever," Andy snorted, disgusted. She waved a hand to the side and Emma ducked to keep from being swatted. "This is Emma. We rescued her from the evils of the Literature department. Be nice to her or Lily will kick you out."

"Nice to meet you," Rick said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "I'm Rick Tesar. This is Marian, that's Andrew," he pointed to the tall man wearing the scrubs. Andrew nodded and waved - he looked like every other med student Emma had ever seen with rings around his eyes and a permanent expression of world-weariness on his face. "The little one is Melanie and that's Izzy. The broody one with the tattoos is Ferris, and the tall lady is Annie - she's a cop when she's not hanging with us."

"How do you do?" Ferris said in a deep voice that was surprising in a person so slim.

Emma gave them all a wave and smiled. "I am not going to remember everyone's names, but I'm really glad to meet you."

"Are you British?" Marian asked, turning her intense gaze on Emma in a way that was both delightful and disconcerting. Emma was beginning to wish she hadn't had quite so much cider already.

"Ah, no," she laughed. "My Dad is, though, and we've spent a lot of time in London off and on. I went to school there for a lot of years, and I can't shake it now. Mom's from here."

"Shall we all go find something to drink?" Ferris asked, pushing past them with a smile. "It's been an hour since I've had anything and I'm thirsty."

"Fine, fine," Marian answered, and the group turned toward the house, following him across the porch where Emma retrieved her cup of cider, and they all went inside to be greeted by a chorus of shouted hellos while half the party descended on the newcomers.

After that, the music was turned up, games of beer pong were played, Card Against Humanity drinking games were commenced, and ... by the wee hours of the morning, Emma was so drunk she couldn't find her feet. At some point, she found herself sitting on a couch next to a stranger who she kept referring to as Prince William, telling him about what an utter fool she'd been while they shared a bowl of cheese-its. Marian and Rick appeared out of nowhere and she'd been carried off to the porch for more cider and more stories which she would _never_ remember, and she ended up telling the story of how she'd poured hot coffee down the front of the professor's shirt, sobbing helplessly over her cup the entire time.

"I tol'him t'get his 'ands off me, y'know," she explained as best she could. "But he inshisted an' I jus' poured the coffee all over'im."

"Well done," Marian said, patting her on the back. "You should have punched him, too."

"Nahhh," Emma shook her head, the world tilting ominously with every movement. "The coffee wash ... was _hot._" She stare down at her drink, swaying from side to side. "I ... I don't ... I don't feel sho ... good."

"I think she's about had it for the night," Rick commented. He seemed very far away. Emma felt herself tilting sideways, a gentle hand on her back as the world faded away.

* * *

The smell was what got to her first. Rancid, rotten, and choking, it filled her nose until she thought she would gag, sitting up abruptly on what felt like wet, broken concrete. Her head was throbbing relentlessly, and she wavered to her feet, blinking the mist out of her eyelashes. Her ears felt oddly sensitive, as though something were vibrating nearby. Green light clung to everything, liquid and hazy, the shadows filling all the spaces between. Broken bits of masonry were floating in the sky ... wait. What? Emma staggered to her feet, turning in a slow circle. Where was she? This didn't feel like a dream, but what else could it be?

Smoke drifted across the world around her, and she saw ahead of her stair leading up a steep hill. At the top stood a shining figure, silhouetted against the green and cloudy sky. Emma stepped toward it, moving across the space between until she came to the first step, blinking owlishly upward. The gleaming shape moved forward, stretching out a hand, as a loud squeal and the click of many feet sounded behind her.

Emma turned and then screeched, seeing spiders the size of Great Danes bounding after her, and she began to climb upward, hand over hand as the stairs grew steeper until they sheared clean away. Fear propelled her up the cracked and broken stone, her hand reaching up to grasp at that of the glowing woman above her. The hand closed on hers and she was pulled forward toward a gleaming, shifting rip in the air.

Without considering the consequences, conscious only of the danger behind her, Emma stepped through.

* * *

.

NOTE: So, I started a new thing. .


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't have to know an answer. I don't feel frightened not knowing  
things, by being lost in a mysterious universe without any purpose,  
which is the way it really is as far as I can tell._  
~ Richard P. Feynman

.

* * *

Waking felt like clawing through layers and layers of choking smoke, her eyes felt gritty and her mouth tasted like ashes. Emma lay on what she thought was a bed, eyes opening to the sound of muffled voices, a hand in her hair, bright gray eyes peering into her face and then someone else saying, tiredly, "Here she is. How much did she drink?"

A sudden urge to retch overcame her and she fumbled her way up, staggering into the grasp of waiting hands and soothing voices who wasted no time getting her into a restroom. Someone held her hair as she emptied her stomach, thinking of giant spiders and glowing women, as well as the itchy, formlessness of green light and floating black ash. Someone handed her a glass of ice water and she gargled and spat, gargled and spat till her mouth felt clean again, and then she was lifted and walked back to the bed.

"Feel any better?"

Emma opened one eye and found Andy looking down at her, she was sitting on the side of the bed while the tired looking pre-med student sat across from the end of the bed with his head leaning against his hand. Lily and Marian were standing in the doorway, worried expressions on their faces.

"I think so … not sure yet," Emma answered Andy's question after a moment, considering how she still felt woozy, but no longer quite so near to death. It was difficult to sit up straight, her head feeling somehow off-kilter, and not in the way it usually did when she'd been drunk. Of course, she'd never been black-out drunk before, either, so maybe this was part of the ride?

"I think maybe you drowned your sorrows with a little too much abandon," Andrew said, lifting his head to smile at her. "It's good to see you awake."

"I had the weirdest dream," she muttered, frowning down at the glass in her hand as the ice clinked. "Never had a dream where I could _smell_ things before."

"Enough liquor will do that to anyone," Marian smiled, relief flashing across her face. "If we'd realized how much you'd had, we'd have stopped you. I'm sorry about that."

"Not your fault," Emma answered, leaning back against the headboard. The bedroom was nicely kept, with solid furniture in the Craftsman style and a variety of antique weaponry displayed on the walls, among other curious items – all set out with care. A computer desk stood in one corner, near to overflowing with papers. "I … haven't ruined anyone's things, have I?"

"We made sure you couldn't," Andy assured her. "Professor Rutherford is out for a few more days. He won't mind. If you're feeling well enough, we can go back out to the party? Or you can stay here a while longer."

"I shouldn't stay in someone else's room," Emma said, moving to the edge of the bed and swinging her legs over. The room tilted a little and she gripped the edge of the bed, breathing hard. "Ahh, that's no good."

"Still a little drunk, I think," Marian laughed, helping her to her feet. They followed Lily back out to the living room, which was far less crowded now. Emma dropped onto one of the couches, still clutching the glass of water. Andrew, who had followed them out, dropped down in a nearby chair and gave her a look out of one half-opened eye. "Drink as much water as you can stand. It will help a bit," before his eyes shut and he seemed to drop off to sleep.

"Blondie's conked out again, I see," Rick chuckled, ambling in from the kitchen to drop down across from Emma. "You look decidedly better now."

"I feel better," she admitted, looking around the room. "I had the strangest dream, it's still with me ... I can almost taste the smell of it on my tongue."

"Huh," he gave her a lifted brow and looked at Marian, who shrugged before ambling off to the kitchen after Lily. Andy dropped down next to Emma and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"You won't do well on a flight if you're still like this in a few hours," she commented.

"No kidding," Emma answered, rubbing at her forehead. "But my hotel room is gone in a few days. I have to get my stuff and drive to Indianapolis tomorrow. Somehow."

"Give me your key and I'll bring your stuff back here, if you want," Rick offered. Andy shot him a look and he shrugged. "What? You've got room. Put her in that professor's room or that other guy ... the writer's room. He's _never_ here, is he? Not since last Christmas, anyway."

"I can drive you," Andrew offered, lifting his head blearily. "Marian gave me her spare keys."

"Ohhh no, Blondie," Rick laughed and shook his head. "I'm not trusting you to take me anywhere ever again. Last time you were this out of it we ended up at that Anarchist meeting and I'm not convinced it was a mistake."

"They have good cake," the other man mumbled, drifting off again.

"If you don't mind me staying a couple of days, I'd really appreciate the bed," Emma told Andy. It wasn't entirely clear to her why she was suggesting it, but ... she had a good feeling about this place and wanted to get to know the people there a bit better. "I was supposed to interview for a possible position on the faculty on Monday morning, and I'd still like to, if they still intend to run the interview. Would that be all right?"

"Stay as long as you like," Andy shrugged. "The house is huge, and there's a room upstairs that's not rented out."

"Someone said this was your father's place?" Emma asked.

"It was," the other woman looked away briefly, her chin lifting. "My parents are dead, so it's technically my Uncle's place now. I have a very large family. Pretty much everyone in town who isn't a student is a relative of mine in some way. You won't be putting anyone out by taking a room. Most everyone here barely pays as it is."

The front door opened then, and a figure entered the room, shaved head gleaming in the electric lights. A few people said hello and, at first, Emma didn't really notice the newcomer, but then Andy was standing and saying, "Sol, this is Emma. She's going to be staying with us for a few days." Standing, Emma Lifted her head to get a better look as she was introduced and found herself under the influence of a pair of knowing gray eyes.

"Ah, I met -" he began to say, but the floor was slipping out from beneath her feet and she felt herself falling as the world went black.

* * *

The stone was cold beneath her knees. Damp, too. Something in her palm burnt and spit with stuttering green light that she could see, even with her eyes closed and nearly blinded her when she opened them. Her hands were strangely heavy and, lifting them, she heard the rattle of falling chains, felt the clasp of metal against her skin, but she was too busy staring at the weird green and glowing thing in her palm. It felt as though a live wire had embedded itself into her flesh, worming its way into her nervous system in painful fits and starts.

Was she back in the dream again?

A door banged open in front of her and she startled, eyes wide as the figures standing silhouetted made their way into the room, armor and weaponry glittering in the torch light. For the first time, Emma realized that there were others standing to either side of her as they stepped back, making room for ... she frowned, Andy and Lily? But ... these versions were older, harder - and Andy had a scar down one cheek that she hadn't had the last time Emma had seen her. The dark haired woman walked slowly behind her, while the other stopped in front of her, watching with narrowed eyes.

"Tell me," Andy said, in a voice laced with anger and lilting with an accent she did not have in the waking world, "Why we should not kill you now? The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." *

The ... what? Emma could only stare blankly, panic welling up in her chest. If this were a dream, it certainly felt too real, too _present_ to _be_ a dream, and ... yet, how could it possibly be real? Before she could think any further, however, her arm was grabbed, the green fire racing upward as the woman who looked so much like Andy growled, "Explain this."

"I ... can't," Emma gasped, terrified. "I don't know how it got there or what it is!"

"You're lying!"

Her shoulders were struck and grabbed, that scarred face drawn in such anger that Emma was hard put not to cry out, but then Lily ... or the woman who looked like Lily ... was pushing the other away, "We need her, Cassandra!" The two stared at one another and Cassandra backed toward the door, though she did not leave.

Emma looked up at the hooded figure, hints of red hair swinging around a pretty face and, despite herself, wanted to trust her. Probably a foolish notion, given the circumstances - she was likely playing the 'good cop' after all. "I have no idea what's going on ... I don't understand!" Emma gasped, hoping with everything in her that this woman would recognize the truth when she saw it.

"Do you remember what happened? How this all began?"

"I ...," she paused, remembering the dream from before - the figure and the spiders in the smoky, stinking place she'd managed to escape. "There was ... there were monsters ... _things_ after me. I was running and there was a ... a woman. She was reaching toward me ... "

"A woman?" Lily asked, perplexed. But Cassandra was there, pushing her out the door.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the Rift."

* * *

Snow crunched underfoot as Emma followed Cassandra up out of the jail where she'd been kept and up through a building that looked like a medieval church and into the bright, gleaming light of day. As they stepped through the double doors, Emma squinted her eyes, nearly blinded by the sunlight, hunching her shoulders as the vague pounding in her head grew more persistent. But ... it wasn't sunlight, she saw as her eyes adjusted and she could see the sky above them, swirling like the eye of a hurricane, green and sick looking, jagged lines of fire racing down through the sky from the center of it ... fire that looked just like the energy that bled from her palm.

"We call it 'The Breach'," Cassandra explained as Emma stared upward in horror. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."*

"The ... what could do such a thing?" Emma asked, wanting to run away and never look at the thing again. It felt _wrong_, as though everything that made sense in the world were being twisted and perverted into something strange and obscene. Though, whether that was what it actually felt like or what her fear was suggesting, she could not tell. "An explosion did that?"

"This one did," Cassandra answered, her eyes on the other woman's face. "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

"That ... seems excessive," Emma answered, trying to understand it all. As she spoke the Breach belched forth power, the undulating line of green fire shooting down from its center, widening and snapping with explosive force. The light on her hand snapped, too, the light growing suddenly brighter, fire flaring along her nerves and sending her to her knees in pain. Emma gasped, gritting her teeth.

"Every expansion of the Breach causes the mark on your hand to grow, as well," Cassandra said, dropping to a knee in front of Emma, her expression earnest. "It is killing you. But it may be the key to stopping this, as well. There isn't much time to find out."

"How ... how would that even work?" Emma managed, trying to find a calm space in the center of the fear and pain. "What do you intend to do?"

"We intend to close the Breach. It is our only chance to end this ... and yours." The other woman's eyes were, Emma thought, remarkably clear, as though she could see to the end of whatever path lay ahead of them.

"But you think I _did_ this, somehow," she answered, "Why would you even let me near it again? What if I just make it worse?"

"That is a chance we must take," Cassandra's reply was swift, firm. "It may swallow you whole, as well. But it will kill us all if we do not make the attempt."

"Damned if I do and damned if I don't," Emma muttered, shaking her head, her hand pulled tight to her belly. It was still throbbing, painful pinpricks of energy shooting along her nerves. "Fine. I'll do what I can." It wasn't as though she had much choice in the matter - this Cassandra would likely just toss her into the nearest vehicle and cart her to wherever she was needed if she refused. Though ... Emma looked around, she wasn't entirely certain 'vehicle' meant the same thing here as it did at home.

* * *

She was walked through a village full of people wearing medieval garb that, Emma was convinced, wasn't for show or costume. There was snow on the ground, drifting high against the walls of the stone and wood buildings, and there whole place lay in a hollow between what looked to be impressive mountains. The people, Emma noticed, were not friendly in aspect or in words as she passed - more than one glowering and muttering the words "knife ear" in her direction. She had the unpleasant sensation that, had they their druthers, she'd be hanging from a gibbet about now - a pleasant thought.

When they came to the other side of the village gate, Cassandra stopped and used a blade to cut the ropes binding Emma's hand. Emma had a moment of utter fear when she'd seen the blade, certain that betrayal was the name of the game, but then the metal sliced through the fiber bindings and she was free. They began down the path once more, jogging across icy terrain until they came to another bridge.

Emma was attempting to explain the glowing figure in her dream to Cassandra, trying to word it so it made sense, when a bolt of green fire slammed into the bridge as they stood in the middle, throwing stone slabs and the guards on the other side down toward the ice below. Emma hit the ground on her side, barely avoiding the last of the falling rock, and heard someone - Cassandra - yelling about a demon. Her head lifted, and she froze, staring with terror as a great, misshapen thing rose from where the green fire boiled above the ice. Scrambling backward, she looked around for a weapon - anything would do, even a stick ... and she saw, tumbled out of a barrel that held any number of other weapons a bow and quiver.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," She muttered as she grabbed hold of them.

.

* * *

* NOTE: I've used a TON of dialog from the game, and I wasn't sure how to get around it. So ... here you go. I know most of us have likely played through this enough times to have it nearly memorized. .


End file.
